Delicate Cutters
by concertina
Summary: /And my toes against the wall/I stare ahead/--Jackie fic
1. One of Them are Closed

    Author's note: Well, I guess I couldn't shake the fan-fiction bug, cause here I am again. This is extremely different from my last fic, but more my style. The title comes from a Throwing Muses song called "Delicate Cutters" and the titles of the chapters will all be lines from the song. So I suggest you all go out and download the song. It fits the story very well. Be sure to read the author's note at the end of the story, it clarifies some things. Okay, I'm done rambling now, so go! Read! And if you feel inclined, review.

    Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of That 70's Show; they belong to whoever they belong to. **__**

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**_                                                                      Delicate Cutters_**

                                                                "One of Them are Closed"

   There wasn't a lot of activity in the Burkhardt residence. In fact, there hadn't been for some time. The maids had long ago been fired, and with the masters of the house gone, there weren't many people milling around the spacious halls as in the past. The sole inhabitant had decided to seek refuge from the large, empty house elsewhere, spending most of her days, and nights, in the basement of a friend.

  The large, Victorian home sat atop a small, grassy hill, far set from the street. Cars would often slow down as they passed its large, iron gates and their passengers would gaze in slight awe at the majestic picture it created, lit up against the backdrop of the night. It was Point Place's own castle, and the Burkhardts were their royalty. 

   Now when cars pass, their occupants would only shake their head in sympathy. Everybody knew the story of the Burkhardt's downfall. The once proudly lit mansion was now bleak and desolate, a cold home to the young princess who was left to pick up the pieces of her family.

                     * * * * *

     The door stretched out before her, its six feet of height morphing into a foreboding twelve, the simple handle and lock twisted into something much more menacing. There wasn't any noise in the hallway, because there was no one there, save her, to make it, and at the moment, she was having trouble even breathing.

     She shifted nervously on her feet, her eyes darting left and right, looking for people who weren't there. In her hand, a key rested heavy and cold. Her fingers felt numb as she absently rubbed her thumb along the metal. The weight of the key couldn't compare to the weight of the decision she was about to make.

     Jackie Burkhardt, for all her stubbornness, was not a strong person. She was girly in every sense of the word. She liked pretty things, collected unicorns, worshiped Danny Osmond, obsessed about her hair, and cried very easily. Donna would be upset if she heard her thinking like that, but Jackie never paid attention to her feminist babble. She was a girl, a cute, rich-well, not so rich anymore, girl. She wasn't supposed to be strong.

     But everything supporting her had been ripped away, and now she had to teach herself how to be independent. Thank God that she had Steven, she didn't know if she would've been able to get this far with out him. But Steven wasn't here now, so it was up to her to hold her own.

     The door she stood before hadn't been opened in almost four years. She didn't think it was even looked at. When she, or anyone else that was apart of the household, walked down the hall, it was ignored. It had been that since the day she locked it.  The key had been put in a drawer and was immediately forgotten.

     This changed today. Jackie had been walking down the hall, heading for the stairs. It was a completely normal occurrence. Except this time, when she neared the door, she had slowed to a stop. And looked at it. She stood there for probably five minutes, just staring at the door. Then she turned around, walked into the drawing room, opened the drawer and took out the key. In a daze she had returned to the door, and that was where she was now.

    All she had to was walk the three steps forward, place the key in the lock, and turn. That's all. Easy, right? Right. All she had to do was move.

    The silence stretched through the hallway, encompassing her, muffling the sound of her breath. And slowly, ever so slowly, she put her right foot forward, then with just as much caution, her left. Only one more step to go. Her fingers tightened around the key. She could do this.

    She clenched her jaw and moved her right foot, and before she could chicken out, she swung her hand up and shoved the key into the lock and turned. There. She did it.

    Jackie stood for a moment in a daze, just looking at the door. She unlocked. It was open. She took a shaky breath and lifted her hand. She was surprised to see that it was just as shaky. She shook her head. No, she could do this. She could be strong. With that, she steeled herself, turned the handle and pushed.

    The door swung open smoothly, as if it had never been closed, and Jackie saw the inside of the room she had spent more than half her life in.  It was dark, fitting, she thought, for a room that hasn't seen the light of day in years. She could change that. Now that she had opened the door, it seemed easier to disturb the state of limbo that seemed to exist beyond the doorway.

    She stepped across the threshold, and felt along the wall, easily finding the light switch, and flicked it. The lights blinked to life, illuminating the interior. It was just as she left it. The boxes were still stacked haphazardly in the corner; the clothes she had thrown in the room before she locked it were still strewn across the floor. She walked absently along the back wall, running her hand along the barre. She sneezed as her wandering fingers unsettled dust. She quickly retracted her hand and wiped it on her pants. She really needed to clean this place up.

    Jackie took a step back, taking in the sight of the studio. She walked slowly backwards into the center of the room. A feeling of awe descended upon her. She was standing in the middle of a life she had left behind in a moment of blind anger. 

    Her musings were cut off when something was crushed under her heel. She quickly moved and looked at where her foot had been. Glass was littered across the floor. The feeling of awe she had disappeared and was replaced with something she couldn't describe. She lifted her head to gaze at the mirror the stretched across the wall before her. Staring back was a disjointed reflection of herself, a momento of that instant of rage where she had thrown something against the glass, shattering it. It was a single marring in an otherwise perfect expanse of silver. She turned her gaze to the floor once more, scanning for the object that had made crack-ah, there it was.

    She stepped over the splinters of glass and picked up the trophy. She turned it over in her hands a few times, running her fingers over the inscription-_Wisconsin Annual Dance Jamboree, First Place._ That had been her final competition, her last day dancing. That had been the day when she shut the door to her studio. 

    Jackie looked up from the trophy and swept her gaze around the room, taking in the boxes of old dance trophies and awards, the piles of old dance costumes, the closet where her shoes and music were stored, and the broken glass that riddled the floor. It would take some time, but she could clean it up. She could reopen a chapter in her life; pick up where she left off. All it had taken to start was opening the door.

                   * * * * *

_    Author's note: As I was watching my collection of That 70's Show episodes, I began to notice a trend with Jackie. She likes to dance. And she has a trophy for being the Prettiest Ballerina. Maybe I'm looking to into things, but I got the impression that Jackie used be a dancer. After that thought entered my head, it took on a life of its own, and this is what came of it. This is just the first chapter, and I promise the plot picks up in the following ones. Don't be fooled by the dance sub plot, this isn't going to be a happy story. It's going to be dark, angst filled, and possibly a bit disturbing. I just hope you guy's stick with me that long to see it take shape.                                                     _


	2. It's Just the Lack of Time

    Author's note: This chapter is just mainly Jackie/Hyde interaction. But since this story is essentially from Jackie's point of view, he's being called "Steven." There's not much to say about this chapter, but I hope you all like it anyways.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of That 70's Show; they belong to whoever they belong to. **__**

                                                                            **_Delicate Cutters_**

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                                                                     "It's Just the Lack of Time"

   About ten minutes away from the secluded Burkhardt mansion is a small suburban neighborhood. The houses that line the street are nowhere near as grand as the Burkhardt's, but there's a certain warmth in their simplicity.

   At the center of this neighbor is a house in which the Forman family resides. Compared to the quite life of their neighbors, the Forman's home is usually filled with activity. Kids are always coming and going, Mrs. Forman is always cooking, cleaning, or mother-henning, and Red Forman is always finding something in yell about.

    It is here that the young Burkhardt girl has chosen to spend her time, sitting in the basement with her friends and boyfriend. But this is not the only reason she chooses to go to the house. With her father imprisoned, her mother abroad, and the maids let go because of her inability to pay them; she has had to learn the simple household tasks that many learn in their youth. Being without guidance in her own home, she sought out Mrs. Forman for help, and as it was her nature, she cheerily obliged. 

    They would meet at the Burkhardt's house and Mrs. Forman would show her how to clean the objects in her home, and use the appliances in her kitchen. And always, while the girl was trying to imitate what her teacher had done, Mrs. Forman would step back and watch her with sad eyes.

* * * * *

      Jackie rocked back on her heels, admiring her handy work. Her costume closet was neatly organized and her eight tracks were filed according to genre, and in those categories, they were listed alphabetically. On the bottom shelf, her tapes were arranged the same way. 

     It had taken her awhile, almost three and a half hours, in fact. She absently brushed a stray piece of hair from her face. Apparently, the actual cleaning process didn't take that long, compared to the organizing. She had dusted, vacuumed, and scrubbed the room in less than two hours. She had gotten all dirty, sweaty, and her hair had gone limp, and then she had to sit all hunched over sorting the things in her closet. 

     She took that moment to straighten her back and work out the kinks in her neck. She scowled as her neck let out a particularly loud crack. She did all this work, by herself, something she had never done before, and she was way too sore to even enjoy it. 

     Jackie sighed as she pushed her self to her feet. She supposed she could've asked Mrs. Forman for help, but she wasn't ready for people to see the studio yet. Before she had closed it off, it had been her safe haven. Her own little corner of the world, some place that was strictly _hers._ And after not having that for so long, she wasn't ready to share it.

    She turned her eyes to scrutinize the rest of the room. It was spotless. The dust was gone from the barre, and floor was washed, and the glass had been swept away. The mirror was still smashed, though. It wasn't that she couldn't bring in some one to replace it, because she could. She wasn't _that_ broke. It was just…she couldn't bring herself to do it. It confused her as to why, but Jackie was never one to sit down and contemplate things for long, so she just assumed she had a reason somewhere in her head and left it at that.

    As Jackie surveyed the room again, her eyes strayed to the clock on the wall. 5:15. She returned her gaze to the mirror, before snapping it back to the wall.

   _5:15?! Steven is going to be here in fifteen minutes! I'm not even ready!!_

    She swore under breath as she bolted out of the room, pausing only to close the door securely behind her.

 * * * * *

    As Jackie rushed around her room, frantically trying to get ready, she appreciated for the first time the fact the Steven was always late. Though the extra ten minutes wouldn't give her enough time to get ready, even with the world's quickest shower she had just taken. She had never spent that little time conditioning her hair, and she was sure it would show. Hair like hers didn't just grow out of her head. It required time and effort. And now, because she had lost track of time, it wouldn't be looking its best. She didn't think she'd even have time to blow-dry and set it. 

    She was hastily applying her makeup when the doorbell rang. Cursing, she began to quicken her pace, hoping no one would notice how sloppy her eye shadow was. The door rang again. _Please, just give me five more minutes_.  She picked up her eyeliner and began applying it with one hand while the other untied her robe. Then Steven's voice drifted upstairs.

 "Jackie?"

   _How did he get…Damnit, I gave him a key!!_

    Jackie threw her eye pencil down and ripped her robe off her shoulders. She could hear him coming up the stairs. She grabbed the dress she had laid out on the bed and pulled it on, not bothering to zip it. She shoved her feet into her shoes, hopping around on one foot as she tried to buckle them while trying to pull her damp hair into a ponytail.

 "Jackie?" 

   She looked up as Steven opened the door. He raised an eyebrow at her predicament, and opened his mouth. She glared at him. He shut his mouth, but he couldn't keep the smirk off his face.

 "Shut up, Steven."

 "Hey, did I say anything?" 

    His grin widened as he leaned against the doorframe. She finally buckled her shoes, and her other hand was free to help tame her hair. It was still wet, which meant it was curly. And curly hair was ten times more difficult to deal with than straight hair. Frustrated, she pulled the elastic out of her hair.

 "Need some help?"

    She let out an exasperated sigh. "Steven, you know absolutely nothing hair!"

 "I wasn't talking about your hair, Jackie. You're falling out of your dress."

     She blinked.  "Fine."

    Steven pushed himself off her doorframe and made his way to where she stood in front of the vanity table. She pulled her hair over her shoulder so it wouldn't get caught in the zipper. She felt him come up behind her and rest his left hand on her hip while he zipped her up with his other. When his hand reached the top of her dress, it paused. Jackie caught her breath as she felt his knuckles graze her shoulder blade before his hand slid down her arm. The hand resting on her hip moved around to her stomach as he pulled her against his body. 

 "You know…" His lips were right next her ear, and the vibrations of his voice made her shudder. "We don't need to go out tonight."

     Then his lips were moving down her neck, leaving a trail of light kisses in their wake.

 "Steven," she bit her lip, "Steven, we have to."

     He paused momentarily before resuming his current task.

 " Steven, no." Her voice sounded breathy and unconvincing. She took a moment to collect herself. Then she turned around in his arms, breaking his mouth's contact with her shoulder. She held him away at arms length.

 "No. We promised to meet everybody for a movie."

     Something clouded in his eyes, and then he stepped abruptly away from her.

 "Fine. Whatever." He moved to sit on her bed and crossed his arms. "Finish getting dressed then, we don't want to be late."

     His voice was harder than it should be, and his eyes were still clouded. And now that she looked closer, his jaw was clenched as well. She took a step towards him.

 "Steven, what's wrong?"

 "Nothing." His voice still had an edge to it, signifying that it wasn't nothing.

 "Steven…"

 "Look, it's nothing, okay? So just finish with your hair so we can go to this stupid movie."

 "Steven!" 

    He made a frustrated sound.  "Look, Jackie, it's cool. Just finish getting ready."

 "Oh no." She put her hands on her hips. "Don't try that 'It's cool' stuff with me. I know what your 'it's cool' means!"

    He didn't respond, instead he just raised his eyebrow. She sighed.

"Look, Steven if we're going to do this boyfriend/girlfriend thing, you _have_ to talk to me. I can't do this all by myself."

    He just pursed his lips in response. She let out another sigh before moving to stand in front of him. She pulled his hands out from his crossed arms, holding them tightly in her hands.

"Steven, please." And she gave him the look she knew he couldn't resist. That wide eyed pout that she had perfected over the years. She could see it working on him. She could almost see the inner conflict flash across his face.

"Please." That final plea did it; he slumped down, cursing her under his breath. She smirked slightly. The look always worked. He straightened up and glared at her.

"Fine." He stopped here to run his hands through his hair. Jackie had to raise her eyebrow at that. He only did that when was at a loss for something to say. He finally collected his thoughts and started speaking again.

 "Jackie, when was the last we were alone? Just you and me with no one else there?"

 "Steven, what do you mean? We were alone yesterday…" She trailed off. No, they weren't alone; Fez was there.

 "Okay, not yesterday, but last-wait, no Michael was there. Oh, what about-no, no." She furrowed her brows. When _was_ the last time they were alone?

 "See? Someone's always there, or I'm working, or your off with Donna. And then you work too, and you're always off dealing with things about your dad. I just, I mean-" She could see he was having trouble saying what he wanted, but she had heard enough to understand. She took his face in her hands and kissed him. He responded immediately, bringing his hands up to rest in the small of her back. She leaned into him, forcing him to tilt back. He pulled her closer, intent on deepening the kiss.

     Jackie pulled away slightly, resting her forehead against his.

 "I should probably call Donna, tell her we're not going. They're probably still waiting for us."

    She could see a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. She grinned at that and dropped a quick kiss on his twitching lips before heading over to the phone. Steven straightened up and watched her dial.

 "Hello? Mrs. Forman?"

 "I'm fine. Yes, Steven's here."

 "Yeah, I know, we were supposed to go the movies. Are they still there?"

 "Can I talk to Donna then?"

 "Hi, Donna."

 "Yes, we're fine, but we're not going to be able to make it tonight."

 "Shut up! You have a dirty mind. But yeah, you're right. Steven was feeling a little neglected."

     He protested that statement loudly, but Jackie just ignored him.

 "Yeah, I know. They are very needy. Anyways, you guys have fun, okay?"

 "Alright, bye."

      She hung up the phone and turned to face Steven, only to be greeted with a disgruntled look.

 "I've been feeling _neglected_?! You keep saying things like that and people will get the impression that I've gone soft, like Forman."

 "Oh, Steven," she returned to stand in front of him, resting her hands on his knees. "You have gone soft."

      She let out a shriek as he pulled her down on the bed, turning so he pinned her beneath him.

 "I've gone soft, have I?"

      She giggled. "Yes, very soft."

 "Jackie, if you want me do to you what I'm planning to do, you need me to be hard."

      She gasped in shock. "Steven! That's entirely inappropriate!" 

 "But it's entirely true. Now stop talking so I can take your dress off."

 "Be careful with it, it's dry clean only."

 "Hey, I dressed you. I can undress any way I want to."

      And he proceeded to do just that. Any protests she had were soon forgotten with the touch of his hand, and the sensation of his mouth against hers. Soon all coherent thoughts were lost to the sound of their breathing, the only noise in an otherwise silent house.

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     Jackie lay on Steven's chest, propped up on her forearms. Her fingers were lightly tracing the contours of his shoulder, while he absently twirled the hair that fell over her shoulder in his fingers. They hadn't spoken to each other since they had finished their prior activity. And Jackie didn't mind. In fact, she liked it. With Michael she was constantly talking, always trying to fill the silence, to keep his attention on her. Even back when she had believed that he was hers and hers alone, she still knew he had a short attention span and a wandering eye. She was always afraid that he would get bored of her. 

    So she had talked. About everything, anything, and nothing. She had gotten into the habit of rambling, and soon it became something she did automatically whenever silence descended. She had grown accustomed to the sound. But then Steven came along and everything changed. For the first time she felt comfortable enough to be silent. Her relationship with him had taught her that sometimes, actions speak louder than words. Taking in their current situation, she knew this to be true. Whenever she and Michael had finished making love, he would either ask to do it again, or leave. He rarely ever stayed and held her, like Steven was doing now. Like Steven always did.

    Her fingers moved from his shoulder to his chest, running her fingers through the hair that grew there. She almost laughed at that. How many times had she said she would never date a man with excess body hair? She had always said that men like that reminded her of monkeys or gorillas. But now here she was, with a guy who was in fact very hairy, and she found it incredibly sexy. It's amazing how much you're expectations can change if you meet the right person.

 _The right person…_

  She bit her lip. She had thought Michael was the right person for her, and look how that had turned out. She chewed on her lip a bit harder, thinking. Finally, without looking up, she decided to break the silence.

 "Steven?"

 "Hmm?"

 "Do you, do you think that Eric and Donna will make it? I mean, do you think that they'll really last long enough to get married?"

    His hand stilled in her hair and a silence fell upon them. This time it wasn't comfortable. Jackie tried as hard as she could not to fidget, waiting for him to answer.

 "I don't know. I mean, you'd like to think they would, because they're Eric and Donna, but I don't know."

     She couldn't fight the urge to fidget, so she began running her fingers in circles over his chest.  "Why wouldn't they?"

     He sighed. "Well, it's Point Place, first of all. There aren't a lot of people here, so out of the people they've met so far, Eric and Donna are perfect for each other. But what happens when they go off to college? They won't be in the bubble they've been living in for the past eighteen years. There's going to be so many more experiences open to them, and so many more people. What if they were only together because of the lack of options in Point Place?"

    She immediately froze at those words. She lifted her head to look at him. "Steven! What are you saying? They love each other! Isn't love enough to make it?"

  "Look, Jackie," he sounded frustrated. "They're only in high school. How much do high schoolers know about love? We haven't had the chance to go out and experience the world. Eric and Donna haven't had that chance yet. No matter how much they say they love each other now, it can always change once they leave Point Place. It's just a high school romance, Jackie. High school romances never last."

     She felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on her.

_How much do high schoolers know about love?_

_High school romances never last._

_Never last._

     No. They could last. And she knew what love was! She knew what she felt for Steven couldn't be anything else. How could he doubt her? She looked at him, laid back on the pillows. He was looking unblinkingly at the ceiling, and his jaw was clenched. That soothed her fears a bit. He didn't like the thought as well. She slid the rest of the way up his body, and kissed him hard, hoping to put every emotion she was feeling, every bit of love she felt for him into that kiss. She needed him to understand.

 "I love you." Her voiced wavered ever so slightly, betraying the sadness she felt. He lifted a hand to brush her hair away from her face.

 "I'm not saying it back." His voice was soft, and she smiled half-heartedly at him. This was their thing. She'd say 'I love you,' and he'd respond the way he did the first time she told him. Who was she to break away from the script?

 "I don't care." But she did. She needed to know, needed to hear it. She needed to know if they had a chance of surviving the world Steven had described. He pulled her in for another kiss, before wrapping his arms around her, pulling her body as close to him as he could. She rested her head in the hollow of his, reveling in his warmth. But this closeness couldn't take away from the doubt he had implanted in her mind. Even after she had slipped into slumber, his voice still echoed in her head.

_High school romances never last._

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    _Author's Note: Not much happened in this chapter, but it is a set up for something coming later, so it was necessary. I also just wanted to write some Jackie/Hyde stuff, because you can't have a Jackie fic without Hyde. It's just not possible. But this story isn't just about them, so come back for the next chapter and stay tuned for some plot development!_


	3. I Stare Ahead

Author's note: Well, this chapter kicked my butt let me tell you. It was torture trying to get it out. And in the end, it was to long, so I had to stop it early. I had a lot more things planned for this chapter, but it was too much. I'm not really happy with the way it ended, but I just needed to get it done, so hopefully it's not to bad. So read, and if you feel inclined, review.                                                                    

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of That 70's Show; they belong to whoever they belong to.

                                                                      **_Delicate Cutters_**

                                                                        "I Stare Ahead"

    For people of the Burkhardt's stature, having a cook was so in the norm that the many generations before the young Burkhardt girl had never felt the need to step into the kitchen. Therefore, they never learned to cook, and since it was improper for people like the Burkhardt's to socialize with the hired help, no one in the household was able to teach the girl the inner workings of the kitchen.

    The girl was resourceful, and with the help of Mrs. Forman, she was progressing in her skills. She had improved so much that she hadn't set off the smoke detector in almost two weeks, to the great relief of her neighbors, who were quite tired of the fire departments frequent visits to their exclusive neighborhood.

                                                                            * * * * *

     Jackie had been awake for almost four hours now, and she was running out of things to do. And it was only seven thirty. When she had first woken up, she wasn't surprised to find her clock reading 3:30. She had been having trouble sleeping recently, going to bed at odd hours of the night and rising before the sun. She had found things to occupy her time, like organizing her father's office, reorganizing her mother's liquor cabinet, cleaning, trying on different outfits and experimenting with new makeup and hairstyles. Or, if all else failed, she'd just lie in bed and listen to ABBA. 

     But Steven was currently sleeping in her bed, so that ruled out listening to music and experimenting with fashion. And as it was still early, there wasn't enough light to clean properly. So that had left her with two options: her father's office or her mother's liquor cabinet.

     Since she wasn't really in the mood to spend hours inside a small was, because that's what it was in reality, surrounded by alcohol, she chose the former.

     So from four thirty to six, she had sat in her father's leather chair behind his oak-wood desk and organized files she had arranged a hundred times before.  It shouldn't have taken as long as it did, but she was going as slow as she could, in order to use up time. Steven probably wouldn't wake up until eight thirty or nine, so she had time to kill.

     She left her father's office in search of something else to fill her time and her eyes landed on the door to her studio. She bit her lip, glancing at the stairs. Maybe if she turned the music really low, then he wouldn't hear. _But what if he comes looking for me and hears me moving around inside?_ She reached her hand out to run her fingers over the doorknob. Another voice asked her if really mattered if he knew or not. She wanted to listen to it, really she did. But she couldn't. 

    Sighing, she dropped her hand. Steven had work today, so he'd definitely be out of the house by eleven. She could hold out that long. In the meantime, he would be up soon and this was a perfect time to test her newly acquired cooking skills. Smiling slightly, she headed down the hall to the kitchen.

                                                                                * * * * *

     Making pancakes was hard. You had to watch it, waiting until the top begins to bubble, then you had to flip it, making sure not splatter the batter everywhere. After that you had to constantly check the underside to make sure it didn't burn. All this effort for a stupid, little pancake. One! And Steven would want more than one, so she had to do all that more than once. Honestly, she couldn't understand how Mrs. Forman enjoyed this. 

      Jackie shoved a piece of puffy hair behind her ear and picked up her spatula. She never got a chance to blow dry her hair last night, and then she slept on it damp, so it was completely out of control. It was so…bushy when it wasn't cared for properly!! It wouldn't stay in the ponytail she had pulled _-more like forced-_ it into. Honestly, she should've just held Steven off for a half and hour longer last night. It was hard, she knew, for him to keep his hands off her because she was hot, but nothing is worth having bad hair. 

      She paused at that thought, stilling her spatula. A small smile graced her lips, well, maybe _that_ was worth bushy hair in the morning.

"What are you smiling about?" Jackie jumped, clutching at her heart.

 "Steven! You almost gave me a heart attack!" 

      She glared at where he stood, leaning against the door to the kitchen. He liked to do that, lean against the door with his arms crossed. She supposed he thought it made him look all cool and _Zen_, but right now he was looking adorably rumpled, with his clothes wrinkled from being in a pile on the floor all night and his hair more curly and puffy than hers. He really was cute when he just woke up. She'd never tell him that, though.

 "I've been standing here for almost a minute. It's not my fault you zoned out."

 "Whatever." She glanced up at him from where she was flipping a pancake. He was looking at her with a strange expression on his face.

 "What?"

 "Are you…cooking?"

      Looking at the light brown circle on her pan, Jackie decided the pancake was done. She slipped her spatula under it and placed it with the others on a plate.

 "Yes."

 "Should I be scared?"

      She glared at him while she poured more batter onto the skillet.

 "No. I am a perfectly good cook."

 "Since when?"

 "Just sit down and drink some coffee. Breakfast will be ready soon."

     He walked over to the counter behind her and picked up the pot of coffee, holding it up for a close examination. She turned around, exasperated.

 "Steven!! There's nothing wrong with the coffee! And if you want these pancakes you better stop implying that I can't cooking."

     Steven glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, smirking slightly.

 "I didn't know making coffee was considered cook."

     She threw her spatula at him. He ducked it, laughing. 

 "Shut up!"

     He was still laughing at her as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Jackie just rolled her eyes, turning back to the oven ready to flip the pancake only to realize she no longer had her spatula. Growling under her breath, she grabbed another one out of a drawer, making a big show of stomping back to the stove. Steven just looked at her over top of his newspaper from where he now sat at the small kitchen table. She retaliated by sticking her tongue out at him. He snorted.

 "That's real mature, Jackie. First you throw stuff at me and now you're doing that? This isn't third grade, you know. Sticking your tongue out at me now could imply something entirely different."

 "Really. What else could it possibly mean?"

      Never taking his eyes off the paper, he replied.

 "That you want to say screw the pancakes, let's go have more wild sex in my room. Or better yet, let's pull a Forman and do it right here on the kitchen table."

 "Ewww! The kitchen table?! That's gross! I eat there. No, if it's going to be on top of anything, it'd be my father's desk. I don't eat there."

    He put down the paper.

 "Then screw the damn pancakes, let's go screw on the desk."

    Jackie grabbed the plate of pancakes, and set it down in front of him.

 "No."

 "Then don't stick your tongue out at me unless you plan to use it. It's false advertising."

 "Steven, you think everything is false advertising."

 "That's because everything is. Like dating, for example, it's not really about 'I like you, you like me, let's go skipping down the hallway holding hands and giggling; no, dating is-"

 "Prostitution, and you don't always get what you paid for. God Steven, don't you have anything else to talk about?"

    He glared at her as she put the syrup and butter on the table and slid into the seat across from him.

 "Says the girl who can talk about her hair for three hours. I can't begin to count how many times I've heard 'you have to leave your conditioner in if you want to have hair as glossy and silky as mine, not bland and rough like Donna's.'"

    Jackie straightened up, her face breaking into a wide smile.

 "Steven! You listen when I talk to you! And you can quote me. I didn't know you were so interested in hair. But, you know what else gives your hair that desired 'Jackie' shine, is-"

 "Shut your piehole! That wasn't an invitation to start talking about it. I don't care about your hair."

    She slumped back down in her seat.

 "Fine. But you know deep down inside you would hate to be seen with a girl who has icky hair."

 "Whatever."

     He glanced up at her from where he was buttering his pancake.

"What, you're not eating anything?"

    She shifted in the seat.

 "No, I'm not really hungry."

 "Really," He poured a generous amount of syrup onto his plate and began cutting the stack. "Why not?"

   Jackie adverted her eyes, concentrating on swirling designs of the tablecloth.

 "Well, I've been up for a while now. So I already ate."

 "Uh-huh." He was looking at her skeptically now. She shifted again in her seat, uncomfortable.

 "I had a banana, okay."

 "Jackie," He sounded exasperated. "You haven't been eating much recently." Before she could protest, he pushed on. "I mean, a banana doesn't count for breakfast. And whenever we go out to the Hub, you hardly ever eat anything there. In fact, I don't remember the last time I saw you eat a full meal."

    Jackie jumped in here, defending herself.

 "I'm a cheerleader, Steven. I need to be careful of my weight and appearance."

 "Oh, bullshit Jackie!" She looked up, startled. "You weigh like ninety five pounds, there is no reason you should be watching your weight. I can probably throw you farther than I could throw Forman, and we all know what a twig he is."

 "Steven, why are you making a big deal about this? And why now?"

 "Because it's been bothering me for a while. And I didn't want to say anything cause I know how things can get when your parents leave-"

 "My parents didn't leave! My dad's just in jail and my mom's in Mexico."

 "The point is, they're not here. So I figured it was just you adjusting, but it's gone on to long now. Jackie, I-"

    She jumped up, shoving the chair back so it hit the wall, making a loud clattering noise.

 "I'm not adjusting! I don't need to! Everything is fine, okay? I'm fine, you're fine, the whole damn world is fine! Just because I don't eat around you doesn't mean I don't eat and it doesn't mean something's wrong!"

     She was pacing now, and her anger was clear on her face. Steven turned in his chair to watch her frantic movements with a slight look of worry.

 "You know, everybody's been expecting me to fall apart. They've all been watching me, saying 'look at the poor Burkhardt girl," and 'she's never done anything by herself before, how's she going to get by?' They look at me with their big, sympathetic eyes and shake their heads."

   She spun around, facing him, her face flushed with frustration.

 "Well, you know what? I'm not going to fall apart. I'm stronger than that, and I can get by. I can take care of myself and I don't need people feeling sorry for me! And I thought you of all people would understand that the best."

   He narrowed his eyes, trying to hold in his anger.

 "Jackie, I wasn't feeling sorry for you, I was just saying that I noticed you weren't eating!" 

   By the time he finished speaking, his voice had risen in volume and it was apparent that he was upset.

 "You were implying it!"

 "You're reading to far into things."

 "Me?! You're the one accusing me of being anorexic!" 

 "Jackie-"

 "No, you know what? I don't care. Think what you want. Its just…God!" She ran her hands through her hair before she remembered that a flimsy elastic was all that was holding it in check. Before she could do anything, it snapped. Her hair immediately sprung up, falling around her face like a big, bushy cloud.

 "Dammit." She muttered, trying to gather the strands in an attempt to tame the mess it had become. She looked up when she heard a muffled snicker.

    Steven was pressing his lips together, trying hard to hold in his laughter.

 "What, you think this is funny?"

     He couldn't hold it in any longer. Laughter burst from his lips as he doubled over in his seat.

 "You have a bigger fro' than I do, man!"

     Jackie made a small squeaking sound as she clamped her hands around the back of her head, trying to push down her hair.

 "Take that back! I do not have a fro'."

 "Sorry man, you definitely have one. And it looks really funny."

     She gasped, eyes going wide.

 "Steven!"

 "Well, it does. I think this is the first time I've seen you with bad hair. I wish I had a camera. Hey, is there one around here?"

  "Steven, I can't believe you! I just, I need, I'm going now." 

      With her hands still securing her hair, Jackie began to quickly make her way to the door only to be stopped by Steven's arm snaking around her waist and pulling her into his lap.

  "Steven, let me go! I need to fix my hair, I-"

 "Come on Jackie, I was kidding." He began to play with her hair, pulling away from her face. "It's not that bad, really."

 "Yes it is."

 "You're right, it is."

 "Steven!"

 "What? You want me to lie to you?"

 "Yes!"

       She began to struggle in his arms, but his tightened grip stopped her from making much progress.

 "Steven, let me go!"

 "Jackie, just calm down. You can make it through a few minutes with bad hair. It's not the end of the world." She turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. "Really, it's not. Now, if I recall, I was going to tempt fate and try your cooking."

 "My cooking isn't bad!"

        He stabbed a piece of the fluffy cake. 

  "Let me be the judge of that." He brought the fork up slowly and took a deep breath, and put it in his mouth. Jackie looked on anxiously, biting her lip. She watched as he chewed, a look of contemplation on his face. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

 "Well? How is it?"

 "Well," he said, swallowing. "It's not half bad."

      She squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.

  "Hey, I'm eating here! Are you trying to choke me?"

      She quickly with drew her hands, apologizing, but she couldn't keep the smile off her face. Steven, seeing the grin that was threatening to split her face, gave her a small smile back before he continued eating.

       The rest of the meal was uneventful, and by the time Steven left for work, the tension from the argument earlier was gone. Gone, but not forgotten. She headed back to the kitchen to clean up, another thing that Mrs. Forman had taught her. She knew that Steven had let it go, because of how upset she got. 

       For the first time in her life, she was thankful her hair was so uncontrollable. 

      But that was only a lucky diversion. He would bring it up again. At least now she would expect it. She had time to come up with reasonable explanations. Because, the truth is, she wasn't quite sure what was going on with her. And that scared her. She liked being in control. She was a controlling person by nature. She hated not knowing things. 

     There was only one thing right now that would take her mind off it. She put the last of the now clean dishes away in their respective cabinets. She would go to a place where she was always in control. Jackie left the kitchen, and headed down the hallway, stopping in front of a door before turning the knob and entering the studio. Her studio. A feeling of peace washed over her as she stepped across the threshold. Everything that was wrong in her life was left on the other side of the door. In here, nothing mattered. In here, she was home.

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_Author's note: So, yeah, it's been awhile. Umm, not much to say except yay Jackie angst! And to expect much more ahead. So, please keep reading when I update and please review, it makes me happy__J_


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